


D.T.F. (Don't Touch, Feel)

by bioloyg



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, Insecure Bucky Barnes, Love Confessions, M/M, Nat takes no prisoners, Nurse Sam, Smut, Winter Falcon, but they're only enemies on Bucky's side, dude idk, fleeting mentions of tony and rhodes getting their asses whooped at beer pong, sambucky - Freeform, sort of, verse bucky, verse sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7233118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioloyg/pseuds/bioloyg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"They say once is an accident, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern. If that’s the case, then what does eleven times make? Is that habit, or a relationship?"<br/>~<br/>When Bucky finds out the guy he hooked up with last Friday is in a frat, he's <em>not</em> happy. Frat guys are the worst. But then he accidentally hooks up with him again... and again.<br/>Only time will tell if Bucky is willing to let his grudges go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	D.T.F. (Don't Touch, Feel)

**Author's Note:**

> _Heyyyy_ , so I'm totally supposed to be working on something else for a completely different fandom, whoops. But now that I've sunk my gay claws into the winter falcon ship there's no turning back. So here we are with a fresh college AU to spice up this rarepair desert.  
> Totally unbeta'd - which some of you know to be standard - so feel free to point out some errors I might have missed in my few rereads.
> 
> This is based off an excerpt from a prompt list made by petermaximoff.tumblr.com.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The first time it happens, it’s a complete accident. Okay maybe not a _complete_ accident. But, if Bucky had known the guy was some – some _frat boy_ the whole thing never would have passed go. Ever. If there’s anything Bucky hates more than people staring pointedly at his prosthetic arm, it’s men in fraternities. They’re loud, obnoxious, rude, and, more often than not, homophobic. They’re not people he wants to spend his free time with, scant as that may be.

So when Bucky sees tall, dark, and handsome across the bar nursing a beer and brushing off the advances of beautiful women, he’s intrigued. His first thought when he looks at the guy isn’t, “ _Oh he must be in a frat,_ ” it’s, “ _He’s got a nice ass and a smile to match.”_

But that’s Bucky’s fault for stereotyping, assuming frat guys only walk around in polos and board shorts while engaging in any and all pissing contests. That’s why it comes as a surprise when Bucky sees the guy who was under him no more than a week ago moaning, “ _Fuck. Yeah, yeah right there. Harder,_ ” heading the table for Zeta Beta Tau. One of the handful of fraternities on NYU’s campus. He must not be hiding his reaction as well as he thought he was because beside him Steve quirks an eyebrow up and says, “What is it?”

Bucky snaps his glare from the table and looks at Steve. “Wh- Nothing. It’s nothing.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “It’s them, isn’t it.”

Sighing, Bucky says, “Who?” as if he doesn’t know damn well who Steve is talking about.

“The fraternities. You’re scowling again.”

He very deliberately does not make eye contact with any of the men chanting their mission statements while pounding on their chests, saying only, “I’m not scowling. The sun was in my eyes.”

Steve lets out a faint laugh. “I don’t get why you hate them so much. They’re not all that bad.”

Bucky stops in his tracks and turns to Steve. “Yes, they are. And any of the good ones that managed to make it in usually stay quiet when their brothers do stupid shit – like hanging my best friend upside down from a tree on the main lawn.”

Grimacing, Steve says, “Buck that was almost three years ago.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It’s not like you didn’t get back at them. You put a guy in the hospital.”

Bucky smirks and starts walking again. “I only broke his arm a little. Besides, they almost put _you_ in the hospital.”

Steve sighs. “Again, it was three years ago. I’ve filled out since then.”

Bucky casts a sideward glance at his friend, looking him up and down. “Yeah, you’re giving me a run for my money.”

“You’re missing the point,” Steve says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh you had a point?” Bucky says childishly. “Must’ve missed it in between all that BS about frat boys being _nice_.”

Steve punches Bucky in the arm. “Fine, be that way, but there’s a party tonight and some of them might be there. Think you can swallow your pride for more than two seconds to come with me?”

“Oh, I can swallow,” Bucky replies with a wink.

His best friend groans and turns away. “I’m going to class. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky’s smirk slides right off his face when he turns back to the fraternities tabling and makes eye contact with S – shit he forgot his name. Not that it matters. Except it does because it’ll piss Bucky off if he can’t remember.

Was it Sal? Sean? Saaaaa – Sam! That’s what it was.

Sam seems surprised to see him, shocked even. Bucky knows that look. It practically screams, _I’m closeted and have a lot of internalized shit so if you bring this up in front of my friends I’ll –_ doesn’t matter. Bucky has been there and done that in high school. He doesn’t have time to play this game with twenty something year olds let alone some dude in a fraternity.

Bucky rolls his eyes and takes the long way to class; he doesn’t even care that he’s late.

~

The second time is… not a mistake per se, but not wholly intentional either. It was one of those heat of the moment things. Under normal circumstances it probably wouldn’t have –

Ha, Bucky can’t even convince _himself_ with that lie. Not this time. It’s not like he was drunk. Bucky was fully aware of his decision. And even though a part of him was screaming, “ _You’re sleeping with the enemy_ ,” the part of him saying, _“Remember that thing he did with his tongue?”_ won out.

Still, Bucky hadn’t started his night thinking he was going to get laid, let alone end up in Sam’s bed again. He’d gotten back from the gym, winded and sweaty, and plopped himself down onto his bed. Then Steve had barged into his room and said something about that party again, and when Bucky tried to protest Steve got that dejected look on his face.

Now, even if he and Steve weren’t best friends that pout would work on him. It was one of those understated, subtle sad-eyed looks that snuck up on you and made you feel guilty for things you hadn’t even done.

“Peggy’s gonna be there,” Steve intones, and it’s dangerously close to a whine which is how Bucky can tell he’s desperate. Steve doesn’t whine. Often.

Bucky groans and lets his head fall back onto his bed. “ _Fine_ , I’ll go. But I need to shower.”

A smile spreads across Steve’s face slowly but surely. “Great. You know, Nat might even be there.”

Bucky snorts and looks up toward Steve. “That supposed to make me want to go?”

“Come on, I thought you liked Natasha.”

A rueful grin plays at Bucky’s features. “I like her the same way dogs like going to the vet.”

Steve frowns, pausing in his ministrations. His hands fall to his waist as he says, “But you guys are always talking to each other in Russian.”

Bucky laughs. “That’s how we argue. Did any of what we said ever sound _nice_ to you?”

“No – but it’s Russian, so how would I know.”

That’s not a question so Bucky ignores it and says, “You don’t have to use your hot friends as bargaining chips to get me to go to your party, y’know. I’m already going.”

“Oh, so you think Nat’s hot?” Steve replies with a smirk.

Bucky throws a pillow at him with his good arm and then gets up to shower.

Steve’s gone on and on about Bucky putting himself out there and dating ever since he got caught in that car accident. It had done some things to Bucky’s self-image. Between losing his left arm and being in a coma for the better part of the summer leading up to what was supposed to be his freshman year in college, he stopped socializing for a while. Became withdrawn. He had been angry at the world and at himself and it manifested in the form of angry jibes and what he now recognizes as borderline verbal assault.

He feels guilty about it on his bad days because Steve was the one to take the brunt of it – willingly. Of course Bucky has apologized, but every once in a while he humors Steve as a way of repaying his debts. And that’s all this is.

After his shower, Bucky pulls his hair into a messy bun, navigates his way through pulling on a black t-shirt and some jeans, and slips on some shoes. All in all, it’s a pretty bland start to what Bucky was expecting to be an even duller night.

Except, this party that Steve mentioned – what had sounded like a get together – it’s definitely not some cute little house-warming party like Bucky thought it would be. The house is _huge_ for one, and despite Steve’s tendency to stick by Bucky’s side more often than not, he’s gone before Bucky can even ask whose party it is.

Bucky sees a few familiar faces, people he’s had classes with throughout the years, but none of the people aside from Steve that he actually considers friends. Which isn’t saying much since that pool is pretty small and shallow. Still, he mingles and smiles and goes through the motions until he reaches the table where the drinks are. He’s sorely tempted to grab a beer, but given his track record the last year he decides to forgo it and grabs a water from a fridge that isn’t his instead. It’s not like anyone here will miss it.

As the night begins to pick up its pace, Bucky finds himself drifting towards the outskirts of the crowd. He may be good at socializing, but it’s tiring on a good day and he didn’t even want to be here. For a while he keeps a careful eye on Steve, but once he sees that Steve’s with Peggy he lets it go. He knows when and when not to hover. Now’s not the time – Steve has been working up the nerve to talk to her for at least a year.

Rather than join in on the beer pong game he’s been prompted to play twice, or follow a rather busty blonde upstairs for “a little bit of fun” Bucky still chooses to sit back and play spectator. It’s easy. Except for when people don’t seem to take the hint.

“You’re not much of a party person are you?” a voice asks from beside him. Any discernable features of it are washed out by the noise of the crowd.

Bucky watches as a drunk kid stumbles and knocks a couple of solo cups off the edge of a table. He doesn’t bother turning to address the person next to him. “Who says I’m not?”

The owner of the voice chuckles. “That death stare about says it all.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and lets out a muted laugh beside himself. He turns just a bit to respond and locks eyes with – “You?”

Sam smirks. “What, weren’t expecting to see me here?”

Bucky frowns and turns his gaze back on the mass of students milling around in the living room. He rolls his water bottle in his hand and focuses on the way it crinkles. “No. I wasn’t expecting you to approach me. Not typically the standard procedure for one night stands. Most people _avoid_ theirs.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to give you my number before you _left_ ,” Sam responds pointedly. If Bucky didn’t know better he’d think Sam sounded a little upset.

He wets his lips and says, “Maybe I didn’t want it.”

“Ouch,” Sam starts, mock affront coloring his face. “That bad huh?”

Bucky turns to look at Sam again and as his eyes track a path up the man’s body heat pools low in his stomach. Bucky had been looking for someone to blow off some steam with and Sam… Sam had been warm and pliable, _very_ talented, and he hadn’t batted an eyelash a Bucky’s prosthetic arm. Even now, Sam seems unfazed.

Either Bucky’s gaze lingers a little too long or he left the question unanswered longer than he thought, because a knowing grin begins to spread across Sam’s lips. “Or maybe it’s something else.”

Bucky levels Sam with a look and crosses his arms. “What do you want?”

A myriad of emotions cross Sam’s face before he smiles placidly. “Your number.”

“Not interested.”

Sam nods and lets out a deep breath. “Alright, so that’s how it is.”

“Yep. That’s how it is,” Bucky replies shortly.

“So if I wasn’t bad in bed then what is it?” Sam muses. He turns to Bucky and clucks his tongue. “ _Oh_ , I get it.”

“Get _what_?” Bucky asks. He really shouldn’t be feeding into this. Actually, he should just walk away.

“You’re one of those guys who only finds men attractive when they’re drunk.”

“Me?” Bucky scoffs. He reels his temper in and says, “That’s not it.”

Sam sighs and crosses his arms, acting a lot more put out than he looks. “Emotionally unavailable because of heart break?” He gives Bucky a once over and then shakes his head. “Nah, you’re always emotionally unavailable, aren’t you?”

Bucky groans. “What will it take for me to get you to leave?”

“You _could_ just walk away. This house is pretty big,” Sam points out.

Rather than respond to reason, Bucky childishly says, “I was here first.”

“That you were,” Sam says agreeably. “But you’re not leaving, so I can’t be all that bad.”

“If you wanted someone to stroke your ego, you came to the wrong guy.”

Sam smiles and says, “The way I remember it, _I_ was doing the stroking.”

Bucky’s face flushes, and suddenly he’s grateful for the piss poor lighting. He clears his throat and tries not to think about the way Sam’s deft hands had made their way over his body. If Sam’s face is any indication, he does a poor job of it.

“You don’t have to take my number. I get that. But, do you wanna get out of here? Kinda seems like this is the last place you wanna be.” It’s a gentle request, tentative even, and it catches Bucky off guard so much so that he finds himself licking his lips and nodding his head ever so slightly.

He recognizes that he should say no, but kindly elects to ignore the rationale when he thinks about getting his hands on Sam’s ass again. Besides, he doesn’t _want_ to say no. What he wants right now is to get the hell out of this house and into a bed. And if that bed just so happens to be Sam’s, what of it? Bucky will find the wherewithal to be upset with himself tomorrow.

He and Sam barely make it to a bed. As soon as they get into Sam’s apartment building, Bucky has Sam up against the man’s apartment door. He can’t be bothered to wait for Sam to open it, and he was taking too long anyway. Bucky just wants to feel the heat of Sam’s skin against his, to taste him. He latches onto Sam’s bottom lip and tugs slightly before diving back in with his tongue; his hands move in counterpoint, smoothing over Sam’s lower back.

Something similar had happened the last time they were together, except Sam had Bucky pressed into the door leading to the alley behind the club. It was rough and a little on the frantic side, each of them chasing their own release. The first of a small handful for the night, Bucky remembers. They’re a little more coordinated this time, though.

Sam threads his fingers into Bucky’s hair, tugging at it ever so slightly, and kisses back. It’s intoxicating, kissing Sam. Bucky finds himself getting lost in the sensation of Sam’s facial hair, the way Sam slides his tongue across his bottom lip before biting. When he comes back to himself for a moment to breathe the apartment door is open.

Sam licks his bottom lip and grins, looking all too pleased with himself. “You comin’ or what?”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow, a subtle challenge. “I think that depends on you.” He takes a step closer and rests one hand on the door frame, leaning in to whisper in a husky voice, “Think you can use your mouth for something good?”

A quick laugh ghosts across the skin of Bucky’s neck before Sam is pulling him into another rough kiss. Their teeth clack but they work through it, stumbling through the doorway and into Sam’s apartment. Once the door is shut Bucky quickly pushes Sam’s jacket off and throws it across the room, eyeing him hungrily once it’s gone. Sam beats him to the punch and takes off Bucky’s shirt before Bucky can reach for Sam’s. Then Sam pushes forward, bracketing Bucky against the nearest wall. He kisses a path down Bucky’s neck, eliciting a quiet gasp, and stops at the juncture where Bucky’s shoulder begins before biting down. Bucky sucks in a deep breath, the sound like a hiss as it scrapes past his teeth, and then shudders when Sam licks over the reddened area to soothe the sting.

On one hand, Bucky wants Sam to press him into the nearest flat surface and fuck him, and on the other he wants Sam to ride him until he’s begging to come. Bucky wants it rough, wants his hair pulled. Fuck he just wants Sam to bite him again. The more marks he wakes up with the better.

He’s distracted by his thoughts and plans long enough that Sam undoes the button of his jeans. Bucky is back online right as Sam snakes his hand into his boxers and give’s Bucky’s length a single, firm stroke. Bucky’s head hits the wall as he lets out a quiet grunt, opening himself up to be bitten by Sam again.

After that all bets are off. One moment they’re in the living room rutting against one another, and in the next they’re making out on Sam’s bed. Bucky’s breath hitches as Sam’s mouth and tongue work their way down his bare torso to the V of his hips. Then, finally, Bucky’s pants are off and his cock is free.

Before Sam can get his mouth on Bucky, Bucky pulls him up by the collar of his shirt and tears it off. A button may or may not pop off, and the two of them share a quiet laugh before Bucky drags Sam in by the back of his neck and crushes their mouths together.

If there’s one thing Bucky can admit to liking about Sam, it’s the guys mouth. His lips are full and soft, but his tongue is sharp like silver. This is an argument; the way they’re kissing. When Bucky chases after the taste of Sam’s tongue against his, Sam outmaneuvers him and bites at his lips instead, like a reprimand. But where Sam pushes forward, Bucky pulls back and changes course – always keeping the momentum.

It’s all too evident when Sam is finished playing though. He pushes Bucky into the bed and pins his arms above his head. Bucky strains a bit, but it’s only for show. Secretly, he’s enjoying being manhandled. It doesn’t happen often anymore. People take one look at Bucky’s left arm and decide that he has “handle with care” written all over him. But that’s not the case, and he doesn’t need or want their pity.

Lucky for him, Sam is either an asshole or he knows better because he has no problem using his weight to keep Bucky in place.

“You gonna put your hands somewhere else any time soon?” Bucky wonders breathlessly as Sam’s hands drift downward, stopping only to pinch Bucky’s nipples. He’s practically aching right now, and as much as he likes being teased now is not one of those times. Although, Sam seems content to fuck with him in every way but the one Bucky wants it.

Sam tilts his head to the side. “Is there some place you had in mind? You looked like you were enjoying yourself.” He drags his hands down to Bucky’s waist once more and skims his fingers over the dusting of hair there. “Thought it was my mouth you wanted anyway,” he says with a smirk.

Bucky rolls his eyes and props himself up on his elbows. There’s a witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but it’s lost in a moan when Sam goes down on him.

~

They say once is an accident, twice is coincidence, and three times is a pattern. If that’s the case, then what does eleven times make? Is that habit, or a relationship?

Bucky refuses to spend more time thinking about it than is strictly necessary. He and Sam are never going to sleep together again, so there’s no need to put a label on what they are. Right? The party had been a mistake, something Bucky realized with startling clarity when he woke up the next morning. Granted, it was a really _really_ enjoyable mistake, but it was a mistake nonetheless.

Sam was – no, **_is_** – the enemy. Even if Steve swears up and down that Zeta Beta Tau is one of the nicest fraternities on campus when he notices Bucky glaring in their direction again. That’s irrelevant. And Bucky isn’t _staring_.

But then Bucky runs into Sam at a bar again and – well, one thing leads to another. He scolds himself and promises that’s the last time. No more sleeping with guys in fraternities. No more sleeping with Sam.

Which is a lie because he and Sam end up fucking in Sam’s car after a heated discussion about the politics of ancient Greece that started at the campus library. Side note: car sex is _not_ comfortable. Bucky was ready to rip the steering wheel out of Sam’s car.

The caliber of the sex they have aside (great, in case you were wondering. Bucky has never had someone so committed to making him cum multiple times) Bucky _swears_ that’s the **last** time. Honest and true.

Except… it isn’t.

The thing is, Bucky _likes_ Sam. Whether he’s willing to admit that or not doesn’t matter because it’s true. He likes that Sam has yet to mention his gaudy cybernetic arm while still acknowledging what it means. Sometimes it’s worse when people ignore it completely – acting as if it isn’t a problem. But Sam just _gets_ it, which makes sense once Bucky finds out Sam is a nurse. And Sam is intelligent too, but in a cutting, understated way that he uses to get back at you when you underestimate him.

Moreover, Sam is one of the first people that isn’t afraid to be a little rough with him, but he’s also smart enough to pick up on the cues when Bucky wants him to be gentler. And fuck, he loves when Sam is gentle too because the guy’s hips can _move_. Every sinuous stroke inward has Bucky arching his back, fighting to keep a grip on the present so he can savor every moment of their bodies in contact.

By the sixth time it happens Bucky stops arguing and takes Sam’s number. It’s not like Bucky can pretend he doesn’t like talking to Sam anymore. They have the same sense of humor, like similar music, even get annoyed by the same kinds of things. And, it turns out Sam isn’t as closeted as Bucky thought. He’s actually vocally involved in the pride alliance on campus. Which is – surprising.

But Sam is still a party guy in a fraternity, and none of his redeeming qualities will make up for that fact. So Bucky still refuses to engage with Sam in public no matter what, and he refuses to date him. That’s just not how their dynamic works and it never will.

Sooo… Why does Bucky want it to so badly? Why does he think about how cute Sam would be in giant sweaters and fuzzy socks almost as often as he thinks about fucking Sam in various positions about the guy’s apartment?

They’ve almost crossed every piece of furniture off their unspoken list. The one thing they haven’t had sex on yet is the kitchen table because they both agreed it’d probably be uncomfortable. Which is why Bucky plans on bending Sam over it instead.

Except he isn’t going to! Because Sam is – he’s – _fuck_ , Bucky doesn’t even _know_ what Sam is to him anymore. But he’s definitely not a friend, and he sure as hell isn’t a boyfriend. He’s not an enemy either though... So, does that make him a frenemy? An acquaintance with benefits?

Bucky scrubs his right hand down his face and lets out an exasperated sigh. This is more complicated than he thought it would be. And to make matters worse, he who shall not be titled is texting Bucky right now.

**_Sambulance: What r u up to rn?_ **

Bucky can’t even pretend to be put off because the name Sam saved himself under is _funny_. He had looked right at Bucky and said, rather suggestively, ‘Call me if there’s ever an emergency. I know mouth to mouth.’

Bucky had scoffed at the time. Really, what a lame joke, right? But that lame joke was responsible for infractions seven, eight, _and_ nine.

Does it count if it’s all in the same night?

Not important! Bucky lets out a soft noise of distaste and rolls over on the couch, pressing his face into the cushions. He’s perfectly content to wallow, but of course Steve chooses that moment to come back from the gym.

“Look who it is. Hey, stranger.”

Lifting his head up, Bucky says, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Steve smirks and crosses his arms. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here after 10 p.m. more than twice in the last two weeks.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and lays back down. The couch stifles half of what he says, so it comes out as a muffled, “Yeah, well, I’ve been out.” He shrugs, trying to make it less of a big deal than it is.

“ _Out_ ,” Steve parrots, obviously not falling for it. He can be irritatingly observant when no one wants him to be.

“Yes, _out_.” The where doesn’t matter. Neither does the reason.

“Mm. With Sam?”

Bucky pushes himself up a little too quickly to glare at Steve. “Wh – how did you –?”

Steve shrugs. “Nat and I were hanging out the other day, y’know when you said you were _busy_ last Tuesday, and she said the funniest thing. She said she saw you while she was at the bar down the street and that you left with someone. Funnier still, we happened to see that same someone while we were on campus and she pointed him out.”

_God damn it, Natasha. See if I ever help your ass in your history classes ever again._

The muscles in Bucky’s jaw tense as he wars with himself. Finally, he looks up and says, “Doesn’t sound like a funny story to me, but maybe it’s just one of those things I had to be there for.”

Steve lets out a sigh and sits down on the love seat to the right of the couch. “Hey, I think it’s cute that you’re dating Sam. You two look like you’d be good for each other.”

“Don’t,” Bucky groans, turning away. “We’re not – _dating_.”

Steve lets out a dry laugh. “Why, cause he’s in a fraternity?” At Bucky’s scowl, Steve’s smile falls into something a little more serious. “Listen, you really gotta let that go. Those guys who messed with me – they graduated. They’re not here anymore. Sam’s a nice guy, don’t let that be the reason you won’t date him.”

“How would you know how _nice_ Sam is?” Bucky drawls. “Did I miss him helping an old lady cross the street? Or maybe he helped a little girl get her cat out of a tree.”

Steve lets out a noise of frustration and stands up. “Get over yourself.” When Bucky turns to respond Steve holds up a hand to stop him. “The guy literally spends his spare time helping war vets with their physical therapy.”

“He’s here for his MSN, Steve.”

“Funny, it’s almost like I said _spare_ time. Time outside of hours he spends at the hospital for his degree. And what would it matter if it _was_ for his degree? He could easily spend his time in some other ward or hospital with patients that are more agreeable. You of all people should know how angry people can get after they lose a limb or, god forbid, their mobility.”

Bucky narrows his eyes, ready to say something that’s decidedly less than ‘ _agreeable_ ,’ but before he can Steve sighs and says, “I’m sorry. That wasn’t fair. I just – I want you to be happy, and you’ve looked it these past few weeks. Now, if I’m wrong and it’s just because you’re getting laid and the who doesn’t matter, then fine. But I don’t think that’s it.”

Sitting up, Bucky sighs and places his face in his hands. “It’s not – like that between us.”

Steve’s eyebrows raise and a bit of the defensiveness falls from his posture. “But, you want it to be?”

“ _No_ ,” Bucky responds pointedly, looking up at him.

“Jesus, Buck. What do you have against him? He can’t be _that_ awful if you’re sleeping with him.”

“What _don’t_ you?” Bucky retorts. “If you think he’s so great why don’t _you_ date him.”

Steve’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “Are you – jealous of him?”

“Wh- **_No_**!” Bucky answers, incredulous.

Steve crosses his arms, but his face softens and the expression looks dangerously close to pity. Bucky has definitely heard enough though, so he waves his metal hand to stop Steve before he starts and gets up. “I’m going out. Don’t wait up.”

“ _Bucky_ ,” Steve says on the tail end of a sigh. When Bucky grabs his jacket and opens the door without responding, Steve’s tone becomes a bit more demanding. “James.”

Bucky freezes in the doorway, his hand clenching around the wooden framing. He _hates_ when Steve calls him that, especially when it’s to scold him, so Bucky lets his pause be the answer.

“Just – promise me you’ll be straightforward with him. He really is a good guy; don’t lead him on.”

Something about the statement makes Bucky want to laugh. Steve is _his_ best friend, not Sam’s, yet here he is defending the guy tooth and nail. Like _Bucky_ is the one who’s going to do the hurting, not the other way around. And isn’t that funny? Every one of Bucky’s relationships in the past three years has been less than stellar. He’s been used, taken advantage of, and neglected, but Steve is worried _he_ ’ _ll_ be the one to fuck this up. Classic.

Granted, Bucky is a mess. He can be unstable at times, especially when he gets into one of his nightmare spells where every sound that’s even remotely too loud triggers him and reminds him of the accident. He’s all dry wit, and he’s not the most cuddly person, but he doesn’t fuck around when it comes to loyalty.

But this isn’t a relationship! This is an arrangement. He and Sam are ~~friends~~ , no, acquaintances with benefits. Once Bucky turned 21 he stopped pretending he could get a relationship to last more than four months. He doesn’t have high expectations for the average college grad, let alone some guy in a fraternity, which is exactly why he never set them up to be anything more.

Except – that might be Steve’s point exactly. Bucky lets out an exasperated breath. He hasn’t exactly been taking Sam’s emotions into account, and even though he _is_ a frat boy, that’s not exactly fair. Bucky knocks his knuckles against the wooden frame and lets out a dry laugh. He hates it when Steve is right about stuff like this.

“Yeah, sure,” is all he says in response before leaving. Once the door is shut behind him, Bucky groans and leans back against it. His phone buzzes in his pocket again.

**_Sambulance: Not forward enough?_ **

**_Sambulance: Okay, fine. Do u want to come over?_ **

Bucky rubs his thumb across the screen as he thinks. He’s not really in the mood for sex, and talking isn’t exactly his strong suit when he’s upset. Before he can decline his phone buzzes once more.

**_Sambulance: Kinda need someone to help me with this pizza, and maybe make fun of the historical inaccuracies in this movie I rented._ **

The fact that the text makes Bucky smile almost makes him want to frown. He lets out a sigh and thinks of what Steve said before typing out: _Be there in fifteen_.

~

The next morning Bucky finds himself in Sam’s bed, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but Bucky definitely did not bring himself here. He distinctly remembers falling asleep on the couch halfway through some cheesy World War II romance movie – one that was _awful_ and hilariously inaccurate just as Sam had promised. What he doesn’t remember is getting up to sleep in here.

Bucky rubs the back of his right hand against his eyes and takes a deep breath. Sam isn’t in bed, but it’s Sunday so he couldn’t have gone far. Bucky turns to the bedside table and, thankfully, his phone is there. He reaches for it and presses down on the home button, looking for the time, and sighs once he reads _9:52 a.m._ Steve is probably worried sick about him. Bucky told him not to wait up, but he didn’t exactly plan to stay out all night.

Feeling guilty, Bucky shoots off a quick text saying he accidentally fell asleep at a friend’s house and then rolls back over, staring at the ceiling. After a moment, Bucky quietly takes stock of his surroundings and notices two things. One, he’s wearing sweatpants that he definitely wasn’t wearing when he came over – though they’re still his. And, two, there’s a note on Sam’s pillow.

Bucky narrows his eyes at it for a moment before deciding to grab it. It’s folded in half and on the outside it says: _Bucky_. He opens it up and wets his lips before reading: _Hey, I went out to go grab breakfast. If you want to leave that’s cool, but you’ll be missing out on some pretty awesome pancakes, so think about that. – Sam._

He rolls his eyes, grinning. “Dumbass.”

Sitting up, Bucky stretches his arms over his head and lets out a satisfied breath when his right shoulder pops. He runs a hand through his hair, detangling what he can, and huffs. He grimaces when he notices his morning breath and gets up to go to the bathroom. After peeing, Bucky looks at himself in the mirror. His hair is a little bit sleep mussed, and he’s gonna have to shave when he gets home, but all in all he looks alright. He definitely _feels_ good. Sam’s bed is a dream.

Bucky bares his teeth and rubs at them with his forefinger to get rid of the fuzzy feeling before grabbing the mouthwash on the counter. He’s halfway through swishing it around his mouth when he hears the front door open.

“You awake yet?” Sam wonders loudly as he shuts the door behind himself.

After a few more swishes Bucky spits the mouthwash out and wipes his mouth off. He rounds the corner to the dining area and holds up a hand as greeting. “S’just in the bathroom.”

Sam smiles, something small and private, before setting the rest of the things in his hands down. “Hey. Thought you left.”

Bucky frowns and shakes his head. “Nah, I slept in a little later than usual though.”

“You were out like a light last night,” Sam comments absently as he takes a styrofoam container from a plastic bag.

The frown turns into a slight grimace as Bucky rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah – it was a long night.”

Sam looks up but his face is near unreadable as he considers Bucky. He must decide on _something_ because he nods and says, mild, “You didn’t have come over. I’m glad you did, but I don’t want you to think you had to.”

“I wanted to,” Bucky replies easily, and he finds that the words are completely true. Despite his initial hesitation to come over, he’s glad he did. It was nice, a quiet night out of his own apartment to decompress. He and Sam lounged together on the couch after they finished their pizza and then watched some old war documentaries before settling on the WWII movie Bucky fell asleep during.

It dawns on Bucky, a little belatedly, that Sam must have carried him to bed. Instead of asking that, he says, “Did I wake up at some point to come lay down in your room?”

Sam shakes his head while opening a takeout container. “It was easier to carry you. You were _not_ waking up.” He laughs as he remembers something and then says, “D’you know you talk in your sleep?”

Bucky rubs his hand down his metal arm and jokingly replies, “No… Why, did I accidentally mention that I was an internationally wanted assassin?”

“Ha, _no_ , just that I had a nice butt.”

“In my defense, it _is_ nice,” Bucks mutters, blushing.

Sam smirks and quirks an eyebrow up. “Was that a compliment I just heard?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and steps forward. “I was stating a fact.”

“Oh, really?” Sam asks, meeting Bucky half way.

There’s a tense moment where the two stare each other down. But then Bucky’s eyes skip a beat and lock onto Sam’s lips. He’s about to say, “ _Yeah, **really**_ ,” when Sam kisses him. It catches him off guard, but he responds in kind a few seconds later, opening up when Sam’s tongue skims across his bottom lip.

Bucky slides his hands around Sam’s waist, pulling him closer, and angles his head so that he can tongue the inside of Sam’s mouth with a little more purpose. He’s just getting into it when Sam pulls back for a breath and says, “Good morning to you _too_.”

Grinning, Bucky dips back in and plants a soft kiss at the corner of Sam’s mouth. Before he can land another Sam stops him and says, “Wait – breakfast. I got food.”

Bucky hums and twists his lips, looking at the table. He looks back at Sam with a wicked grin and opens his mouth but again Sam beats him to it, warning him, “If you say some cheesy shit about dessert –”

“What, you’ll spank me?”

Sam narrows his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I hate you.”

Bucky pulls him forward by his shirt collar and kisses him, _hard_. His right hand finds its way to Sam’s cheek and he strokes the top of it with his thumb as his tongue slides against Sam’s. Bucky relents after a moment, placing one more gentle kiss against Sam’s lips as a guise before biting the bottom one.

Sam hisses out a curse before grabbing the corner of Bucky’s t-shirt to keep him in place. “You – are something else.”

Bucky grins. He definitely doesn’t preen when he notices Sam is a little out of breath. But, he does slap Sam’s ass and ask, “What’s for breakfast, sweet cheeks? Sausage?”

Sam groans and rubs a hand down his face before muttering, “It’s too early for this shit.” He grabs the second container from his bag and opens that one too. “There’s chocolate chip pancakes and blueberry. Plain wasn’t an option – it’s good, but not as good as these.”

Bucky pretends to think about it before holding out a hand. “Chocolate.”

“Good, I wanted blueberry,” Sam replies, all too serious.

“What if I change my mind?”

Sam crosses his arms, “Too bad.”

Bucky nods sagely. “This is serious business huh.”

“Taste a bit of your pancake and you’ll understand why I’m not sharing mine with you, no matter how much I like you.”

Bucky pauses, smiling before laughing quietly to himself. He takes the offered pancake and grabs one of the plastic forks that’s in the bag. As soon as the pancake hits his tongue he lets out a groan and closes his eyes. Sam wasn’t kidding, the soft sweetness of the pancake is _great_ matched with the rich flavor of the chocolate. It’s the perfect combination of buttery and sweet, with just enough saltiness to balance it all out. When Bucky opens his eyes again he finds Sam staring.

Sam throws his fork down into the container and rests his hands on the table. “You just can’t let me win, can you?”

Bucky licks a smudge of chocolate from the corner of his mouth and puts his own fork down. “Not my fault. You bought the pancakes.” He crosses his arms and eyes Sam carefully, smirking when the man pushes himself off the table and makes his way to Bucky’s side.

~

They finally cross the kitchen table off their list.

~

It’s been about three weeks since Steve talked to Bucky, and for once Bucky thinks things are going pretty well. He’s still hesitant to call what he and Sam have a relationship, but he’s definitely having more fun now that he’s stopped guilt tripping himself for feeling good when they’re together. Although that part took another talk from Steve – something about Bucky deserving nice things. Bucky’s still working on that bit. He’s okay with that though. Pretty much everything in his life is a work in progress.

The one thing he _hasn’t_ managed to work on is talking to Steve about how _little_ he enjoys going to parties. But here he is anyway, milling around another one. He can’t exactly say it took much prodding though. As soon as Bucky heard that Sam would be stopping by when he was finished up with a night class he was sold on the idea.

Once again, Steve is gone within the first thirty minutes. Bucky isn’t as upset this time, though. He likes the way Steve lights up around Peggy. Plus, Peggy doesn’t take any of Steve’s shit. Bucky _finally_ has someone else on his side that sees right through Steve’s poster child grin and into that secret attitude he has.

He waves when Peggy glances in his direction and then makes his way through the party, biding his time until Sam comes. He’s almost home free, at the outskirts of the crowd, when Natasha grabs him and _tells_ him – Nat doesn’t ask – that he’s her partner for beer pong. Apparently _someone_ made the mistake of challenging her thinking it’d be an easy win. Bucky laughs when he figures out there’s money involved.

“You poor bastard,” he mutters under his breath when the guy, _Tony_ , shakes his hand just before they start. The guy’s best friend, Rhodey, shakes his head like he knows just how badly this is going to end up.

It only takes two rematches for Tony to cut his losses. Bucky smirks and then looks over at Nat. She licks her thumb and counts through her money before looking up at Bucky. “What?” she says, a perfectly sculpted eyebrow cocked in question. “You’re free to go.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Thanks, your majesty.”

The corner of her lips quirk up in amusement. “Why don’t you go find your boy toy, Barnes.”

“Maybe I will,” he fires back as he melts into the crowd.

Another hour passes without incident, and then Bucky remembers the real reason he doesn’t like parties. Trouble with a capital T slides up beside him in the form of a guy who’s almost six feet tall. He’s got a shit eating grin on his face and his breath wreaks of alcohol.

“The name’s Rumlow, Brock Rumlow,” the guy says, holding out a hand.

Bucky looks down at it and then back up into a pair of bloodshot hazel eyes. “I don’t remember asking,” Bucky says, looking back out into the crowd. The guy looks contagious, and with what doesn’t matter. Bucky’s not touching the guy.

“You’re funny,” Rumlow says before downing whatever is in his cup. It’s strong if the face he makes as he drinks it is any indication. “You must be Barnes.”

Bucky’s eyes narrow as he turns. Before he can get his question out Brock says, “Oh yeah, I’ve heard all about you metal boy.”

Knuckles creaking under the pressure of his closed fist, Bucky replies, “Really, now? From _who_?”

“You don’t know?” Rumlow says, his eyes going wide for a moment, then he doubles over and laughs. As he comes back up he says, “Sam and I go way back, if you know what I mean.” He winks when he makes eye contact with Bucky again. “Wilson’s told me _alllll_ about you.”

The thought of Sam knowing anyone like this guy makes a sick feeling curl in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. There’s no way. “I doubt that.”

Rumlow leans into his space and whispers, thick and heavy, “Really? I know so much. Like how you’re only good for a quick fuck. And even then, you’re not _that_ good, which is why he comes running to _me_.”

Fire zips through Bucky’s veins at that, but he holds himself in place long enough to grit out, “You wouldn’t know pleasure if it broke your fucking nose.” He turns and stares unblinkingly into Brock’s eyes, all too close to him.

“What, are _you_ gonna show me? From what I hear you like to take it, not give.” Brock leans back and a feral grin spreads across his lips as he mutters, “Pillow princess.”

Bucky lets out a frustrated breath and wets his lips. “Trust me, I can give as good as I get, and right now I’m planning on making you beg.”

Rumlow’s eyes shine with something like amusement as he tosses his solo cup to the floor. He pushes the sleeves of his shirt up and waves his hands at Bucky as if to say, _come get it_. “Let’s play, _Bucky_. I hear you like it rough.”

Rumlow is the first to punch, his fist connecting with Bucky’s jaw. He’s quick to hold back though, bobbing in place with an ease that belies how drunk he is.

Bucky works his jaw until it pops and then laughs. “You’re gonna regret that.”

He catches Brock’s incoming fist with his right hand and punches with his left; the metal hits home and breaks bone with ease. Rumlow tears his hand from Bucky’s grasp to wipe at the blood now dripping from his nose and then roars. Bucky’s on the floor before he sees what’s coming and then the two of them are rolling around.

Sober as he is, Bucky has no problem hooking a leg around one of Rumlow’s, flipping the man. As soon as Bucky is up he punches, hard, and spits, “Told you, I have no problem topping.”

He pays for his cockiness when Rumlow grabs his shirt and pulls him into a headbutt before viciously shoving Bucky to the side. He’s up before Bucky can get his legs underneath him, and because of that Bucky earns a nice kick to the ribs.

A sizeable crowd is gathered around them by the time Bucky pulls Rumlow’s legs out from under him and climbs on top of him again to punch and punch and _punch_. He has his arm cocked backwards for one more when someone grabs him and pulls him up. Bucky tries to shake them off, but they keep their hold until someone else comes and helps.

Once he’s outside, Bucky sees that it was Sam and Steve and rolls his eyes. He pulls his arms away and paces the length of the porch. It’s not enough space for the way Bucky feels right now.

“What the hell was going on in there?” Steve questions breathlessly.

Bucky clenches his jaw and looks at Sam accusingly. “The guy had a lot of shit to say, and then he hit me so I hit back. Anything you wanna share with the class, Sam?”

Steve falters, looking between the two of them. “That guy looked _drunk_ , Bucky…”

“Stay out of it, Steve,” Bucky says coldly. His eyes remain fixed on Sam’s as he says, slowly this time, “Is there – something – you want – to tell me?”

Sam heaves one last breath before asking, “What are you talking about?”

“Your buddy _Rumlow_ seemed to know quite a bit about us,” Bucky hisses, practically seething now. At Steve’s gentle prodding he snaps and says, “Butt _out_. For once in your god damn life, keep your nose out of my relationships.”

Steve looks taken aback for all of ten seconds before he sets his jaw and nods. “ _Fine_.” He’s back in the house shortly after.

“Was that necessary?” Sam asks with his arms crossed in disapproval.

“Oh don’t _even_ ,” Bucky scoffs. “Don’t patronize me on what is and isn’t necessary when you’ve been sleeping around.”

Sam’s eyebrows knit together and he leans forward. “I’ve been _what_? What the fuck are you talking about right now, Bucky? And who’s _Rumlow_?”

Bucky lets out a cynical laugh. “The guy you’ve apparently been fucking behind my back. I know we didn’t exactly establish we were exclusive, but I thought it was pretty clear.”

Sam’s eyes drain of any compassion that was left as he bites back with, “Between what and _what_ exactly? Was it sometime between when you wouldn’t take my number, or all those times you left before I woke up? Or maybe it was all those times I asked you out on a date and you flat out told me you weren’t interested.” He lets out a humorless laugh. “And for the record, I _have_ been treating this as if we were exclusive, whatever the fuck _this_ is.”

“Bull _shit_ , Wilson. How the hell did that guy know about us then? How did he know my _name_ , how we have sex? You expect me to believe he pulled that shit out of his ass?”

Sam throws his hands up and turns away, letting out a frustrated breath. “Are you talking about Brock Rumlow? That who?”

“ _Yes_.”

“I have _never_ slept with Brock, and the day I do is the day hell freezes over. He _tried_ to sleep with me, and has been irritatingly forward ever since, but we have never been together.” Sam levels Bucky with a look that’s one part angry and two parts annoyed. “And yes, I mentioned you, because I’ve mentioned you to _all_ my brothers in the fraternity because I _like_ you.”

Bucky throws his head back and lets out a throaty laugh. “Oh it just gets better and better.” He looks back down and points inside. “ _Him_? _He’s_ in your fraternity?”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Fuck, it’s not like **_I_** picked him, Bucky.”

Shaking his head, Bucky says, “No. You know, this right here –” he motions between them. “This is why I don’t hang out with guys like you. Because guys like you hang out with guys like _that_.”

All the fight in Sam’s face drains and all that’s left is something sad and hurt. “Guys like me… Are you for real right now? You honestly believe some shit that guy said over me. That I would willingly hang out with him knowing he was like that.”

Bucky turns away and clenches his teeth repeatedly. He’s not going to let Sam make him feel bad about this. For once Bucky isn’t going to let someone walk all over him or throw him to the side cause he’s not good enough.

Sam shoves at Bucky’s shoulder. “At least _look_ at me.” When Bucky turns away again Sam lets out a sigh that comes out sounding more like a hiss than anything. “Man, have you ever heard of a self-fulfilling prophecy? If you’re only looking for the bad in people that’s all you’re ever gonna find.”

Faced with Bucky’s unconvinced glare, Sam’s face closes off. “You know what, forget it. I knew sleeping with someone who refused to give me the time of day was a bad idea but I still did it because I thought, ‘no, maybe this one is different, Sam. He seems like a good guy underneath it all; he’s probably just scared.’ Obviously I was wrong. You’re just an asshole.”

“Don’t try and make this about me, Sam.”

“It is about you!” Sam lets out a heavy breath, his chest falling dramatically once it’s out. He rolls his eyes and sighs again. “It’s about how fucking closed off you are and how you’ve pretty much always had one foot out the door whenever we were together.”

“Because of shit like this,” Bucky retorts.

Sam shakes his head. “No, not because of _this_ – because you’re so caught up waiting for people to fail that you don’t even realize how much they care. There’s no _trust_.”

“And why would I trust _you_?”

Sam blinks and takes a step back. After a moment he laughs. “Go fuck yourself, Bucky.” And then he’s gone too, just like Steve.

Rather than feel liberated or proud, Bucky just feels… defeated. He feels oddly hollow, and his heart is beating out of his chest even though his mind is numb and complacent now that the argument is won.

It certainly doesn’t feel like Bucky won anything though, that’s for sure. If he did, it’s one hell of a hollow victory. He yelled at Steve – something he’s going to feel even _more_ guilty about tomorrow – and Sam… He doesn’t know. Bucky doesn’t _want_ to know. What he wants right now is to go home and sleep.

So – he does. It’s not like anyone is holding him back, and he doesn’t have anywhere to be. At least nothing can get to him the way it is right now when his eyes are closed.

~

Bucky avoids Steve for three days. Any time they’re in the same room Bucky studiously looks in the opposite direction. If Steve says hi Bucky barely mumbles anything in return. He’s not mad or anything. He has no right to be. Steve’s heart was in the right place – as it always is – but sometimes it gets so _frustrating_ not being perfect and okay and happy the way Steve wants him to be. So he snapped. He was angry and he lashed out in every direction. What’s new.

He rubs a hand against the bruise on his ribs absently and sighs. The area throbs as he does, but it only hurts when Bucky thinks about how Sam would probably shake his head fondly and kiss the area if they were together right now.

“Stupid nurse, with his perfect little smile and lame brown eyes,” Bucky mutters as he balefully stabs at his cereal with his spoon. “I’m Sam Wilson and I’m Mr. _Perfect._ ” Milk splashes over the edge of the bowl when Bucky jabs the frosted flakes a little too hard.

“Taking it out on your cereal now too, huh?” Steve says as he passes by the counter to get to the fridge.

Bucky slowly sets his spoon down. Maybe if he doesn’t move at all Steve won’t be able to see him. Wait, no, that’s a T-Rex. Maybe if he bolts Steve won’t follow him.

“Oh, I see,” Steve starts up again. “What is it – day 4 of the silent treatment? I think that’s a new personal record.” Instead of his usual teasing tone there’s something disappointed wedged in, and that’s even worse.

Sighing, Bucky lets his head fall into his hands. “It’s not – I’m not trying to ignore you. I – I don’t know.”

“You’re feeling guilt. That’s what.”

Bucky looks up and narrows his eyes. “Yes, thank you, I know what guilt is.”

“Do you? No, no. I’m thinking of humility. It’s humility you seem to have trouble grasping.”

“Here we go,” Bucky groans, letting his head fall to the counter as he bends over. “Look, I know I was a dick to you, okay? I’m sorry I snapped at you.”

“My feelings aren’t the ones that are hurt, Buck,” Steve says gently. “Sure, I’m a little annoyed, but at the end of the day you’re my best friend.”

Bucky smiles a little at that, but it’s lost in his arms. “Thanks.”

“However –”

“Uh oh,” Bucky says with a sigh.

“– I _do_ think you owe Sam an apology.”

Bucky lifts his head up so that Steve can fully soak in the look of disbelief on his face. “You’re on _his_ side?”

Steve sets the juice in his hands down and cross his arms. “See that right there is where you need to stop. There are no sides. There are spectrums and _grey areas_. I’m not on any side, I’m saying this as your best friend and as someone who knows Sam.”

“How do you even know Sam? I’ve barely talked to you about him.” A small part of Bucky is glad for that, otherwise Steve would know how much Bucky liked the guy.

Smirking, Steve says, “NYU isn’t as big as you think it is. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I volunteer at the hospital nearby every other weekend to see Peggy. Granted, the first time I met Sam and he told me about this stubborn guy he was interested in I had no idea it was you. But eventually I put two and two together…”

“… When Nat pointed him out – great.” Bucky sinks into his chair. “So, what now? You gonna tell me about how he waxed poetic and hope I’ll go running back to him?”

Steve snorts and pours his juice into his cup. “No – Sam thought you were kind of a dick. He said you were borderline preverbal and that your hair was annoying.”

Bucky’s lips pick up at the corners. If Steve thinks Sam hasn’t said those exact same things to his face, then he’s got another thing coming. Sam was upfront whenever they were together about anything from his preference in sexual positions to why he refused to wear navy blue socks.

“ _But,_ ” Steve says, obviously trying to capture Bucky’s attention again. “He also told me he was a sucker for your blue eyes and that he liked how passionate you were about the things you loved.”

Something in Bucky’s chest twists at Steve’s words. Actually, not _something_. Bucky knows it’s his heart that’s aching right now, but he’s trying to ignore it. That’s all he’s been doing the past three days. Ignoring how heartsick he feels. He rolls his eyes and gets up to put his bowl in the sink even though he barely touched its contents. “Yeah, well, that doesn’t exactly change anything.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Steve says, blocking Bucky’s path to the sink.

“Steve, come on –”

“Listen,” Steve asks. It’s in no way a command, Bucky can tell by the timbre of Steve’s voice alone. “Sam really liked you. I could see it in his face even when he was talking about the things you did that annoyed the shit out of him.”

Bucky’s shoulders fall and he sets his cereal down before he drops the bowl completely. He wants to curl up in a ball. “Awesome. He thought I was adorable and then he went behind my back and shit talked me while he was sleeping with some other guy.” Bucky squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained breath. “Please just – let me put my bowl in the sink. I’m tired and I want to go back to bed.”

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s right shoulder and shakes until he looks up. “I know deep down you don’t believe that. You want to, I’m sure, but you know that’s not true.” When Bucky doesn’t react, he says, “Okay. Let’s just say for a moment Sam _was_ that kind of guy and he did sleep with someone that wasn’t you – you really think it would’ve been with someone like Rumlow?”

“No,” Bucky mutters angrily. He wants to get his hands on the guy again. There’s still a little bit of residual anger itching at the base of his spine that he wants to take out on _Brock_. He takes a deep breath to chase it away and then says, sadder this time, “No.”

“Didn’t think so,” Steve finishes, his tone equally despondent. He claps Bucky’s shoulder once more before letting his hand fall away and stepping aside.

Bucky can’t move though. Everything feels weird and wrong and he feels dirty even though he spent twenty some odd minutes sitting in the shower. There’s a part of him that’s still convinced Sam is awful and that he’s been bad news since the beginning. But that part of him started shrinking as soon as one hour after he yelled at Sam, because he knows Sam is great.

Sam’s the greatest, actually. The best person Bucky has found in a long time. He’s sharp and witty, but patient and gentle and he never treated Bucky like he needed to be swathed in bubble wrap. Bucky loves his stupid deep brown eyes and the way they sparkled whenever they argued about stupid shit like whether or not pulp belonged in orange juice. He loves the way Sam was always warm even when a room was freezing. And Bucky loves the way Sam held him after they had sex. Even though he usually hates being spooned ‘cause it feels like being trapped. Bucky loves – _shit_.

He loves _Sam_. That’s why everything hurts so much.

Before Bucky knows what’s happening a tear falls down his cheek. Steve catches the change of emotion somehow – he always does – and he drags Bucky into a hug by the front of his shirt. He holds Bucky tight and whispers, “Finally figured it out.”

“I _hate_ him,” Bucky hisses. “I hate him so fucking much.”

Steve chuckles against him. “You don’t. Not even a little bit.”

Bucky sighs into Steve’s shoulder. “I don’t and that’s why I _do_.”

His best friend rubs a hand up and down his back. “Love is weird that way.”

“Scary.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees wholeheartedly. “It’s terrifying, but that’s why the other person is there. So you don’t have to be alone, so you can be afraid together and eventually forget all of that fear and just… be happy together.”

Bucky shakes his head and lets out a humorless laugh as he backs out of Steve’s arms. “Pretty sure the only thing Sam is with me right now is pissed.”

“I’m sure he’s more upset than angry.”

“ _Thanks_.” Bucky levels Steve with a less than impressed look.

Steve rolls his eyes and takes Bucky’s bowl to the sink. As he turns around he says, “I _meant_ that he probably misses you.”

Bucky frowns. “I wouldn’t miss me if I were him.”

“You’re _not_ him.”

“Steve,” Bucky says with a long suffering sigh. “You didn’t hear what I said to him.”

Steve lifts an eyebrow. “I heard enough to know you fucked up.”

“Again, thank you for pointing out –”

“Not done,” Steve butts back in, his words ending in a lilt. “I heard enough to know you fucked up, but I also heard enough to know Sam wanted you to come around to see his side. So, if you talk to him and admit you may have been _wrong_ , I think he’d at least hear you out.”

Bucky swallows but his mouth is dry at the thought. He clears his throat and says, “And if he doesn’t?”

Steve lets out a quiet sigh. “He’d be well within his rights.”

“Yeah…”

“But, I’d keep trying.”

~

Bucky paces in the hallway outside Sam’s door. His knuckles have almost connected with the wood, begging for entry, three separate times. His palm is sweaty, and even his left arm feels tense somehow. He’s been like this for almost twenty minutes. However, it’s now, just as Bucky is steeling himself to knock on the door, that he realizes he hasn’t really planned out what he wants to say.

He spent a whole week bullshitting his way through a list of excuses as to why he should leave Sam alone, why he should cut his losses. And by the end of it, when he realized he’s an _idiot_ , he didn’t think to plan out some sort of speech because he was in too much of a rush to get over here. Something he’s seriously regretting because Sam deserves better than some half-hearted explanation.

Bucky groans and runs a hand through his less than manicured hair. He’s been nervously combing his fingers through his hair for the past hour. The only time he stopped was during the car ride over, but his restless energy had still come out in the form of the relentless tapping of his thumbs against his steering wheel.

Glancing at the door out of the corner of his eye, as if trying not to invoke its wrath, Bucky lets out the deep breath he’d been holding. Maybe he should turn back. Just go home and – and try again tomorrow.

 _No_ , Bucky thinks. _It’s now or never._

 He takes another deep breath, straightens out his back and raises his hand to knock. He cocks his hand back, ready to do it and _then_ – he chickens out again.

Just as Bucky’s about to resume his nervous catwalk up and down the hall, Sam’s front door opens. Bucky’s wide eyes meet Sam’s accusatory glare before he looks away, too ashamed to maintain eye contact.

“Were you gonna knock on my door at any point, or were you just gonna skulk around in the hallway until I came out for work tomorrow morning?” Sam leans up against his door frame and crosses his arms. He dips his head until Bucky looks at him again and then poises an eyebrow in question.

Bucky wets his lips and flexes his hand. “I…” he stops and sighs, brow furrowing. “How did you know I was out here?”

Sam looks across the hall and then back at Bucky. “Mrs. Thompson called me and said something about a shifty guy with a metal arm waiting outside my door.”

Face reddening, Bucky says, “Can I come in?”

Sam considers him for a moment and then nods, stepping aside, though not leaving much room for Bucky to pass. Their shoulders brush as he passes through the doorway.

As Bucky turns around Sam closes the door, locking it. He knows it’s habit on Sam’s part, having grown up on a less than friendly side of New York City, but it makes him feel trapped. Sam must sense how skittish he is because he lets out a tired sigh and some of the defensiveness in his posture falls away with it.

“I wanted to apologize.” Bucky begins, right hand jittering by his side. At Sam’s eye roll he says, “Listen, I know that I’m behind on this.”

“Way behind,” Sam agrees with a humorless smile.

Bucky sighs and looks down again. “Yes, way behind.” He looks back up and hopes beyond all hope that the plea is evident in his eyes. “I want to say something, first. And I don’t want you to think it’s an excuse. It’s just – I’m hoping it’ll give you insight. Maybe make it clear that I wasn’t being a complete dick without reason.”

Sam snorts. “Everybody always has a reason, Barnes. Doesn’t make it right.”

“I know,” Bucky replies pointedly. “Let me _finish_.”

Sam narrows his eyes for a moment, assessing the situation. He motions for Bucky to continue with a circular movement of his hand.

Bucky sighs. “I probably should’ve explained this in the beginning, but considering the fact that I had myself convinced we weren’t in a relationship and never would be, I didn’t.”

Sam lets out a sharp breath and wets his lips, clearly unamused. Bucky pushes through and ignores the way Sam closes himself off, how he crosses his arms and angles himself away from the conversation as if that will shield him from whatever it is Bucky is about to say. It hurts, but not in the way Bucky thought it would. Mostly, he wants to reach out and soothe Sam’s hurt, but he can’t and it’s all his own doing.

Bucky looks away once more and runs his tongue across his teeth, pressing down on them hard enough to feel something other than his own sadness. “After I lost my arm –” and that catches Sam’s attention, “– my self-esteem was a mess, if not nonexistent. Still is, if I’m being honest with myself. I jumped at anyone who would give me the time of day. Real great base for relationships, in case you were wondering,” Bucky finishes with a healthy dose of sarcasm laced between his words.

“As you can _probably_ guess, it led to some pretty spectacular failures. Some people tossed me to the side when they were finished, others couldn’t handle how broken I was – especially not in the beginning when I was… It didn’t work out, long story short.” Bucky scrubs at his arm with his metal hand, chasing away the goosebumps the acrid memories conjure.

Sam’s face softens, but Bucky pays it little mind. This isn’t how he wants Sam’s forgiveness. Not out of pity. He continues, shouldering past the gentling look in Sam’s eyes. “After that I promised myself I wasn’t going to get into a relationship. They weren’t for me, obviously. Or so I thought.” Bucky looks up at the ceiling and lets out a bitter laugh. “I found every reason not to date except the right one – namely, my apparently massive trust issues. But then _you_ came along. And it really wasn’t a relationship that first night, but after the third or fourth time we came together it probably was. I wouldn’t admit it, but yeah.”

“Before you even took my number?” Sam asks, hardly convinced.

“It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to give it to me since the beginning,” Bucky responds, tired. “You were persistent without pushing and I still – I was holding on to the fact that you were in a fraternity, **hard**. But that was the only con you had against a fucking _laundry list_ of pros. I mean – god, the way you looked at me alone was one through five at _least_ on the pros side.”

A laugh is startles out of Sam at that, but he regains himself and shakes his head. “What exactly do you have against fraternities that none of the good in me could have ever outweighed?”

“Not never,” Bucky says seriously, his eyes locking with Sam’s. “Steve was wearing me down day by day trying to get me to let that go, and then – and then I jumped to conclusions because I was scared.”

“Scared?” Sam scoffs. “Of _what_?”

“Of letting you in! Of loving someone else who’d never be able to handle me when they realized that just because I have a prosthetic arm it didn’t mean I was _better_ ,” Bucky all but yells. He closes his eyes and sighs, long and hard. He doesn’t dare open his eyes until he turns away from Sam’s gaze. “A few years ago Steve almost got sent to the hospital by some stupid guys in a fraternity whose names I don’t even remember. Steve was in bad shape back then, had horrible asthma and next to no muscle mass. It was initiation week and those guys thought it’d be funny to hang him upside down from a tree. He almost suffocated, I broke a guy’s arm, and the rest is… a long story.”

Sam’s eyebrows rise and his arms fall. “I’m sorry, you wanna run that by me again?”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yes, I broke someone’s arm. Believe me, it wasn’t without its consequences.”

“Not _that._ I saw you hit Rumlow, I know damn well what you’re capable of,” Sam says, a huff following shortly after. “I meant the bit about **loving** someone.”

Bucky stills. That part didn’t necessarily slip, but – okay it totally slipped. He wasn’t planning on bringing that part up. It’s kind of a curve ball and he wasn’t ready to address those emotions just yet considering how long it’s been since the last time he did.

He chances a look in Sam’s direction and lets out a plaintive sigh when Sam’s expression is less than receptive to the thought. “I’m sorry, I – I know that’s not fair. I didn’t…”

“Mean it?” Sam tries. The frustration on his face fades into something cold, steely almost.

“I meant it,” Bucky responds, resolute. “What I didn’t mean was to say it right now in the middle of my apology, or explanation – _whatever._ I just… I’m _sorry_ , okay? I’m sorry that I never gave you a chance and I’m sorry that I was an asshole to you at that party and that I thought you were friends with someone like Rumlow.”

“You don’t have to talk to me, or forgive me –” Buck says, and the words feel like glass as they move past his lips. “–but I hope you do.”

When all he gets in return is a blank look from Sam, Bucky nods, accepting defeat. His hand is on the doorknob when Sam says, “So that’s it?”

Bucky’s grip on the door tightens. “What do you mean, ‘that’s it?’”

“You’re just gonna walk away. Again. Not even gonna try – or wait?”

Bucky lets out a frustrated noise and turns around. “What the hell are you talking about Sam? You didn’t say anything. I figured you wanted me to _leave_.”

“Stop guessing,” Sam says, exasperated. “You keep making assumptions! Wait for five god damn minutes so things can clear up, just once. I was _thinking_.”

Bucky’s face goes slack. “I –”

“ _You_ ,” Sam says, picking up where Bucky falters, “Are a jackass.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused, and I’m not finished. Shut up.”

Bucky’s mouth snaps shut and he takes a step back as Sam takes two forward. Sam’s eyes track his every movement like a hawk’s. It’s nothing short of intimidating. “You hurt me,” he says, voice quiet but stern.

“I know.” And Bucky has been scolding himself about it for days.

“No,” Sam replies in a tone that’s near scolding. “You don’t. I spent a week trying to figure out if I had done something else to make you snap like that. You were so quick to shut me out.”

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mumbles, looking down.

He hears more than he sees Sam’s answering sigh. “I can’t do this with you if you’re gonna box me out every time something goes wrong. I really can’t.” He sounds exhausted. “So tell me now if you’re _really_ sorry, or if you’re just saying what you think I want to hear.”

Bucky looks up, determination settling in his chest. “I meant it. I **_mean_** it. I want – I want –” He pauses, digging for all the things he _really_ wants, not just the censored version because he’s too afraid to bare himself.

“I want – to get pancakes with you on Sundays.” Sam’s mouth falls open the slightest bit, caught off guard by the statement.

“I want to argue about ancient history with you,” Bucky continues, “– and laugh at the inaccuracies in hospital shows that you watch out of spite to train yourself. And I want to cuddle with you on your stupid leather couch and fall asleep on you when I’ve had a long day.”

Bucky wets his lips. “I’m _sorry_ that I shut you out, and that I never gave you a chance to fully explain your side. And I’m sorry it took me over a week to pull my head out of my ass. But I – I mean all of that so much it _hurts_.” Bucky takes a deep breath and swallows his pride for the last bit. “I was wrong. And if you only want to be friends, then I’m fine with that. I’ll _be_ fine with that.”

Sam tilts his head up. “What if I don’t want to be friends with you?”

It feels like a slap, but it’s no less than what Bucky deserves. His voice is soft when he says, “Then – I’ll deal with the mess I made.”

“What if I want to be more than friends?” Sam asks, taking another step forward.

Bucky’s mouth hangs open for a moment as his brain struggles to catch up with his heart that’s currently beating out of his chest. “I – I’d… _What_?”

“I missed you, asshole,” Sam says, face pulled into frustrated lines again. “And as much as I enjoy our friendship I don’t really want to watch you date other people.”

“I don’t want to date anyone but you,” Bucky responds, quietly but all too emphatic. “I’m sorry.”

“I _know_ ,” Sam answers, exasperated. “What you did wasn’t okay, and I haven’t exactly forgiven you, but I accept half of your apology.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, easily. “I kinda love you too, idiot.”

Bucky’s eyes flit across Sam’s face, and he tries very hard not to let it be in search of a lie. Instead, he allows himself to bask in the warmth of Sam’s gaze, allows himself to smile in return. “What if I _really_ love you?” Bucky asks, finally meeting Sam in the middle.

“That’s nice,” Sam replies with faux disinterest coloring his face.

Bucky rolls his eyes and says, “I hate you,” but it’s disgustingly fond.

Sam smiles in response, mischievous and bright. “I hate you, too. Now are you gonna shut up and kiss me, or –”

Bucky doesn’t need to hear the rest of that sentence. He grabs Sam’s face and reels him in for a show stopping kiss. He pours his heart into it, all of his apologies, and every ounce of passion he has. Bucky keeps Sam close, one hand on the small of his back and the other just underneath Sam’s head. It’s everything he didn’t realize he missed _so much_. The way Sam smells like the lightest touch of vanilla _all_ the time, how soft his lips are, and all the noises he makes. It’s in the middle of this kiss that Bucky finally admits he doesn’t just love Sam, he’s _in_ love with him.

Sam sighs and grasps the back of Bucky’s shirt, his head tipped upward ever so slightly as he licks into Bucky’s mouth. At first it’s gentle and tentative, both of them easing back into being together, and then it’s _not_. It’s fervent and hungry, and a little desperate on Bucky’s part. Sam leans forward and Bucky is forced to take a step back to compensate. Then he guides Bucky backward until his back is up against the door.

Bucky lets out a soft gasp as Sam continues kissing a path down his neck. Sam makes his way back up again after leaving a particularly harsh bruise at the base and leaves a gentle kiss just below Bucky’s ear. Bucky’s grip on Sam’s shirt tightens and a shaky exhale falls past his kiss bitten lips.

Sam looks up and strokes a thumb across Bucky’s cheek. His voice is low when he says, “You come here often?” just as he had when Bucky was pressed against the back door of the club their first time.

“No,” Bucky says, playing coy. “But I’d like to try.”

~

Bucky drags his nose up the length of Sam’s neck and kisses the corner of his jaw before whispering, “You sure you wanna stay for the movie? We could always go back to your place.”

Sam shivers involuntarily and then shoots Bucky a dry look. “ _Yes_. I told Steve I’d hang out a bit after dinner.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Bucky huffs. He’s only doing it to get a rise out of Sam, but instead of the intended effect – Sam rolling his eyes – Sam pulls Bucky into a sound kiss, shutting him up.

“You guys are gross,” Natasha says from her place on the floor by the TV. Bucky flips her off without looking and kisses Sam on the cheek.

Nat shakes her head at Bucky, once he’s finished making eyes at Sam, and puts _Pacific Rim_ into the DVD player, moving to the loveseat when she’s finished.

Bucky ignores her for a moment and circles an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling the man onto his lap. He hooks his chin over Sam’s shoulder and places one more kiss against his neck before saying, “Sorry, what was it that you were saying? I couldn’t hear you over all this bitterness in the air.” Bucky smiles when he feels Sam’s laughter against his chest.

Nat responds in a voice that’s sickly sweet. “ _James_ , you remember what happened the last time you got on my nerves, right?” She turns slowly so that only her profile is showing and grins.

“You ended up with a bad hair day?”

Nat’s smile grows into something vicious and predatory. “And I pulled you into the pool with me. You and I both know how heavy that metal arm is.”

Bucky smirks and pulls Sam closer. “It’s okay, my sugar dumpling knows mouth to mouth.”

“Do _not_ call me that,” Sam says after pinching Bucky’s arm.

“ _Children_ ,” Steve tuts as he walks into the room with two bowls of popcorn. He hands one to Sam. “No arguing during the movie.”

“It’s not on yet,” Nat and Bucky say in unison.

Sam and Steve share a long suffering sigh. “Is he like this with you?” Steve asks.

“Worse,” Sam answers, gently squeezing Bucky’s forearm. “Way worse.”

**Author's Note:**

> May or may not be writing for this fandom again since it's not my usual MO, but if I do I hope some of you stick around to see what's up.  
> If I don't, you can always come yell about SamBucky with me at bioloyg.tumblr.com 
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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